PROLOGUE; Midland, Texas - 1958 C.E.

Terrance Paddraigh O'Connell was not the sort of kid that his peers wanted to be seen associating with. Skinny, wearing thick lensed glasses, hand me down clothes, and possessed of a high pitched irritating voice, he was a nerd's nerd - ere such a term had even been invented.

Friends, however, were the last thing on Terry's mind at the moment. It was eleven thirty, on a Friday night, and his old man hadn't made it home from the honky tonks yet. The fourteen year old boy lived in almost constant fear of his father's drunken rages. The taped bridge and wired on earpiece of his glasses bore mute testimony to past encounters with his sire's fists and feet.

He almost regretted that he'd kept running away from foster care, until they'd washed their hands of him, and sent him back to his dad's tender loving care. But, even the old man was better than the Hell of Child Welfare. He'd heard that kids were treated better in reform school, than what he'd received from the county's appointed minions.

Trying to get back into his latest book was a waste of time, as his ears kept perking up every time a car door slammed. The thin walls of their current shack did little to block out street noise, and he was ever alert for the sound of approaching footsteps.

Finally, he snapped - enough was enough. Hadn't his paternal grandfather, an orphan, walked from the Oklahoma Territory to central Texas, when he was only twelve years old. And hadn't grandpa gone on to become a respected member of the community, though he'd only been a janitor in the public school system. Terry knew his grandparents couldn't help him, as they were both in their seventies, and just as afraid of their son, as he was. His aunts and uncles were all, either equally afraid, or unwilling to help the black sheep's kid. No, if anything was to be done, he'd have to do it on his own.

Terry carefully made his way to a stack of old lumber in the alley, there being few street lights in this neighborhood, and withdrew a short length of two by four. Returning to the house, he laid the makeshift weapon on the floor beside the broken down old armchair. He picked up his book, and went back to reading about a group of high school kids, who were about to be gated to an unknown planet, in order to take the field survival test, required for completion of the outland science course they were taking.

The approaching footsteps abruptly yanked Terry out of his book. Carefully marking his place with a scrap of paper, he set the book aside, picked up the two by four, and waited beside the front door.

The man never saw the descending cudgel, as he stepped across the threshold. It sounded like someone had dropped a ripe melon, as Terry's swing connected with the back of his father's head. The drunken sot collapsed without a sound, and Terry feared he'd killed him, until he saw the moving breast.

Dropping to one knee, he searched through pockets, retrieving wallet, carkeys, change, cigarettes, and lighter. Quickly stuffing his pitiful collection of clothing into a pillowcase, he ran out the door and drove off in the fifteen year old clunker. His bridges were burned now and, regardless of the consequences, he'd finally taken his fate into his own two hands.

By the twitching of my cock, preggos and prosecutors are run amok. Austin, Texas 1980 C.E.

Lawanda Jackson was building up a full head of steam. She'd been sitting in her gynecologist's waiting room for over an hour, and the conversations she'd been overhearing had her ERA blood boiling. How could all these young women be so happy about being pregnant by the same man? And several of them were black women. Had they no shame? Where was their sense of personhood, their desire for personal empowerment. It was bad enough that they'd allowed themselves to be used by a white man, but surely they should want an abortion. And the others were just as bad. The pair of redheaded twins were giggling and rubbing their distended abdomens, as they happily swapped stories about their Irish Stud with the other, equally besotted women.

Enough was enough! Lawanda grabbed her purse and, stopping at the receptionist to reschedule her appointment, rushed off to her office. She had the bastard's name, and couldn't wait to drag his sorry whitebred ass into court. She'd do everything within her power as an assistant prosecutor, to see that the culprit was brought to heel. She wasn't sure yet, which specific laws he'd broken, but she hadn't graduated at the top of her class for nothing. She'd research the penal code very thoroughly and surely find something she could pin on the philandering prick.

Terry glanced up at the bar clock, as he wiped glasses in preparation for opening. Though he no longer needed to work for a living, Terry enjoyed helping out when someone called in sick. O'Malley was an old friend, and had taken a young kid under his roof, without asking for anything in return.

Elena, one of the barmaids, sidled up next to him and whispered in his ear; "I'm pregnant again Corazon, and it's all your fault."

Terry smiled down into her brilliant Mexican eyes, and murmured; "If it upsets you, why are you rubbing my cock?"

The giggling girl grinned up at him and said; "I'm not upset pobrécito! I just wanted to be sure you wouldn't get rid of me, now that I'm going to be fat."

"Not a chance chiquita.", he chuckled, "You know how much preggos turn me on. I'll be trying my best to fuck your brains out, soon as that hot little belly starts to swell. And you know how much I love sucking your leche from those hot chocolate nipples. When are you going to move in with me and the others, not that I object to giving you money for baby Carmen?"

"Why you honey-tongued sweetheart!", she exclaimed, "You know full well that Mama and the girls would cut my throat, if they thought you wouldn't be coming around to service their needy pussies any more."

"Hell querida, bring them along. You know I've got plenty of room in that big house, and I'd just love to have all my babies under one roof. Think of the child support payments I'll save."

"Child support?", she giggled, "You know very well that you give us a lot more than some judge would make you pay. Mama just loves the new minivan, and the girls are always fighting over whose turn it is to drive the convertible."

"Well, next to fucking, giving gifts to my loved ones is my greatest pleasure.", he conceded.

"Welllll, okay!", she conceded, "I'll talk to them about moving in, but you'd better be sure to save some cock for us. That gaggle of brood mares you're surrounded by had better let us have our turns."

"Aw shucks vida mio, you know I'd never play favorites. I love all my darlin' honeys the same. I'll always have time for you gals."

"Don't you ""Aw shucks"" me, Caballo Grande!", she quipped, "Nobody buys that cornpone shit Homes. I just hope my babies get their brains from Papa, as they're shit out of luck if they get mine."

"Now, who's shuckin' who, sweetheart?", he pointed out, "Little Miss Valedictorian doesn't think she has any smarts? What a crock! If our kids have even half your beauty and brains, I'll be well satisfied."

"Ooooooh, you sure know how to get my motor running querido.", she simpered, "What say we sneak out back, and you can stretch my poor little pussy till she screams Mas! Mas! Mas!"

Terry grinned, as he envisioned her pussy screaming for more, more, more. His cock certainly liked the idea.

"Sorry darlin',", he said, "but O'Malley has to sign some papers at the bank, and he won't be in till after lunch. I promised him I'd open up this morning, so you'll have to take a rain check on the fun and games."

"Okaaaay, but don't you be putting out for these other bitches.", she pouted, as she pointed to the other two barmaids, who'd been licking their chops every time they'd looked at her man, "Just remember who has first dibs on the goodies!"

Terry just shook his head, as he began wiping down the, already spotless, bar.

Lawanda was pissed! Not only was she having trouble finding a statute she could apply to that O'Connell scum, but her investigators were coming up empty handed as well. Hell, no MAN was that good. Every source they'd queried had claimed that he treated his victims better than any government agency would dream of doing.

He reportedly laid out lavish sums of money for the care of his little bastards, and even bought extravagant gifts for the little sluts who whelped them.

Thinking the money might be a possible tie in to illegal activities, she'd had his finances investigated, only to run into another big disappointment. The asshole was loaded! He was evidently something of a local legend with the Austin art crowd.

The fucking Mayor's wife even collected his stuff, and it was rumored that her daughters were the products of his wicked loins.

He owned a modest gallery near UT, Austin campus, and his annual income was well into nine digits. He didn't even cheat on his fucking taxes!

They'd also uncovered that several of his little tarts had escaped from the welfare rolls, and were maintaining 4.0 averages at the university - all on money he gave them.

Apparently there was a large population of sick perverts, who were willing to shell out major bucks for paintings of knocked up whores!

Then, she'd discovered that her favorite, all black female, law firm was on permanent retainer to him. Not only were those traitorous bitches whelping his illicit bastards, but he'd actually paid for their education, and set them up in practice.

Then her fucking boss had called her in, and ordered her to drop the investigation. He claimed she was costing the taxpayers a lot of money, in trying to harass an innocent citizen. The fucking misogynistic prick was probably counting on a big campaign contribution from that damned Irish piece of trash!

Well, fuck that! She'd go undercover on her own time. She just knew she'd be able to get the goods on that felonious fuck, if she could get close to him. Maybe he'd try to assault her, and she could file harassment charges against him.

Suddenly feeling much more cheerful, she packed her briefcase, and headed home for the weekend.

"Terry! it's for you.", O'Malley shouted, holding up the receiver for Terry to see.

"Thanks, O'Malley.", Terry said, as he took the phone from his friend.

"O'Connell here.", he announced to the party on the other end.

"Terrance, sugah, you never call, you never write, you hardly ever take time to stretch my poor pussy anymore.", purred the voice from the other end.

"Why Judge Johnson, you know you'll always be my favorite piece of judicial ass!", Terry laughingly responded, "What brings you to call my unworthy person this fine evening? We're still on for next week, aren't we?"

"Of course we are sugah!", she laughed, "But your gorgeous cock isn't the reason for this call, though I certainly wouldn't mind if you suddenly felt compelled to rush over here and oil my rusty hinges."

"No,", she continued, abruptly serious, "I'm calling to warn you about a haywired little bitch over in the D.A.'s office. She's apparently got a burr under her saddle, when it comes to you. She's one of those radical, ERA spouting, foaming at the mouth, liberated feminists, like they have up there in Yankeeland. She's a bigger wannabe than most of those Valley Girls out in LaLa land, and she wants your pretty head for her trophy wall."

"Okay, who is she, and what's she look like?", Terry questioned.

"Her name's Lawanda Jackson, and she's a twenty-six year-old black woman, with an absolutely killer figure. I really wouldn't mind tasting her dark little berry for myself, if she wasn't such a pain in the ass. I can't understand how she became such an asshole. Hell honey lamb, if I had her looks, I'd have made a fortune in the adult video business. She's probably just never found a good man to iron the wrinkles out of her drawers."

"Thanks a heap, Letitia, I owe you one for this.", he promised.

"One, Hell, you Irish scamp!", she was back to purring, "I'm just like a Lay's potato chip, sugah britches. You'll never get away with eating just one."

"Okay!", he laughed, "I'll make it a full course banquet."

"Oh, BTW, Big Daddy,", she resumed, "I'm really starting to show, big time. It won't be long before my robes can no longer conceal the evidence of your sinful ravishments. Got room for a broken down, ex magistrate over in that wicked pussy palace of yours?"

"Any time yummy tits, but you're just fishing for compliments now, as you're the farthest thing from broken down that I've ever seen. However, as I'm a real sucker for a well-baited hook, I'll bite. You know good and well that you're the hottest thirty two year old woman in Austin, and I'd crawl the length of a football field, across broken glass, just to suck the juice from your sweet little peach."

"Why, you darlin' man!", she declared, "You've got a date, but forget the broken glass. I want you all in one piece, when I get my hands on you."

With that, they concluded their conversation, and Terry made his way back across the crowded barroom, to the smiling identical redheads, who were waiting for the two glasses of orange juice he carried in his hands.

Several men looked jealously at them, as the two little hotties immediately snuggled up on either side of him - some guys had all the luck.

Much ado about fucking!

The gallery was packed to the rafters. This was the first night of Terry's new showing, and half of Austin seemed to be there. It was almost impossible to carry on a normal conversation over the background buzz, so Terry had retreated to an empty corner, and was contentedly engaging in one of his favorite pastimes - people watching.

The usual crowd of half-starved artists was congregated around the buffet table, taking advantage of Terry's free food. He smiled, recalling when he used to be right in the middle, scarfing the goodies along with the rest of them. He always made sure that security let them in, as most of them were old friends, and he never forgot a friend - or an enemy.

Lou Ann Pettibone, the Mayor's wife, was happily shifting from group to group, her advanced pregnancy not appearing to slow her down in the least. Her Honor, Judge Letitia Johnson, was heading straight for Terry, having just spotted his lurking place.

Like many Jamaican women, her mixed heritage had combined to produce a truly remarkable beauty. Though she had grown up right here in Austin, she often fooled strangers completely when she affected her mother's native patois. Phi Beta Kappa at UT, she'd graduated Summa Cum Laude, and had been in the top five percent of her class. Harvard Law School hadn't been able to knock the rough edges off of her Texas twang, and she was proud as Hell that those "Damned Yankees" hadn't been able to civilize her. She carried a Colt Commander.45ACP in that huge tooled-leather purse, and often filled in, if an instructor was absent from the pistol range. Meaner than seven kinds of Hell, when it came to sentencing violent criminals, she was also capable of the most tender mercy, when it came to those who were accused of consensual acts - much to the consternation of the Bible-belt crowd.

"What are you doing, hiding out at your own party, sugah?", she teased, as she walked up to him, "You know you can't sell any pictures, if you're hiding in the corner."

"Not to worry Judge, my biggest fan has already sold half the exhibit, and is making serious inroads into the rest.", he laughed, pointing toward where Lou Ann had an elderly couple trapped in another corner. "If I'm not careful, she'll have the next batch sold, before I can even slap paint on canvas."

"Biggest, is certainly an apt description!", she laughed, "She looks like she's about ready to pop, right where she stands. I'm goin' to have to talk to that girl. She's twenty eight now, and still runs around like a teeny bopper on a Friday night. She needs to start taking better care of herself, now that she's past her prime."

"Past her prime?", Terry chuckled, "Look who's calling the kettle black, you tasty tidbit. What's this I hear about you getting involved in a domestic dispute the other night?"

"Domestic dispute, my ass!", she exclaimed, "That crazy pimp bastard was about to cut that poor girl something bad - didn't leave me much choice."

"So you just shot half of his hand off, huh?", he teased, "Don't you know you're just supposed to sentence them, not take them on by yourself."

"Well shit, they were blocking the entrance to my favorite honky tonk, and there wasn't a cop in sight. Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing boyo."

"I just love it when you talk Irish to me, sugar lips.", he grinned, "Sure, and I would've settled his hash, but I would've done it with more style - screaming "You dirty rotten motherfucker" just doesn't fit my laid-back image. Besides, I'm not the one accusing Lou Ann of being over the hill!"

"Style, my saddle-sore ass, you crazy Mick bastard, why I'll have you...", Letitia started, "Oh shit, sugah she's here, bold as brass, and obviously come to check you out!"

"Who?", Terry asked, "Who's here?"

"That little bitch from the D.A.'s office; Lawanda Jackson, and would you just look at what she's wearing! She looks like a two dollar whore, though on her, it does look good. I wonder where she got those gorgeous red spike-heels, got to get me a pair of those."

You mean that delicious little honey in the black mini?", he asked, "That's the man-eating she-cat you warned me about? Why Hell, Letitia, she looks like she's ready to fall back and spread 'em at the drop of a hat. Looks like she just might be the thrill ride of the decade!"

"Don't let your cock start doing your thinking for you now, sugah britches!", she admonished, "I've never seen her dress like that before, and I've had her in my courtroom several times. Like a lot of her colleagues, she has no sense of humor, and if she's dressed like that, you can bet she's up to no good. Probably trying to bait the trap for your horny Irish balls. Lay one finger on that hot chocolate ass, and she'll have you up on charges before you can holler calf rope!"

"Okay, okay, thanks Letitia, but you've just given me an idea.", he apologized, "Why don't you go get Lou Ann and fill her in about little Miss ERA. Take her over and introduce the two of them. If she's as big a wannabe as you think, she'll be thrilled to the max that Austin's finest woman judge wants to associate with her outside the courtroom, and getting introduced to His Honor's wife will just make her day. Let Lou Ann take the bull by the horns after that, because if she can get that DC husband of hers elected Mayor in a homophobic town like Austin, you can bet the ranch she'll charm the panties right off our little nemesis."

"Why you sly Gaelic dog, you've been one step ahead of me all along, haven't you? I knew there was a good reason for wanting you to father my babies, just glad to have my good judgement confirmed - again. You just can't wait to dip your wick in that sweet little peach, can you? Just remember that Lou Ann and I have dibs on sloppy seconds, and thirds. I can't wait to suck your yummy cream filling out of her hot little Twinkie!"

Terry smiled, as he watched Letitia's fine ass-cheeks wiggle, as she crossed the room to Lou Ann's side. What an awesome team they made; the city's finest legal mind allied with the best political brain in the state. He could hardly wait till his fellow Texans were ready for a woman in the Governor's office again. With Lou Ann in The Mansion, and Letitia as Texas Attorney General, things would be popping all over. That hapless little firebrand didn't stand a chance with those two leading her on. His cock was already starting to drool in anticipation.

"Miss Jackson, might I have the honor of introducing you to Austin's First Lady, Lou Ann Pettibone?", Letitia inquired.

"Oh, Your Honor, it would be my greatest pleasure to meet Mrs. Pettibone - I've heard so much about her, and can't wait to get better acquainted!", Lawanda gushed.

"Lou Ann, this fine young woman is one of the bright young stars over at the D.A.'s office, Lawanda Jackson.", Letitia hammed.

"Why Miss Jackson, what a great pleasure!", Lou Ann exclaimed, "I've heard your name a couple of times, and have simply been dying to meet you. Why don't we slip away from the madding crowd, and get acquainted. Terry won't mind if we use his office for a short while, especially after he gets a good look at you!"

"Why don't you two go ahead.", Letitia encouraged, "I see a couple of my colleagues over there, and need to touch base with them for awhile. I'll try to catch up with you a little later on."

With that, Letitia headed back to Terry, while the other two slipped through the door to his office.

Lawanda couldn't believe her eyes, as she looked at the petite redhead seated across from her. According to her sources, this woman was the political power behind the man in the Mayor's office. She just couldn't credit that someone with her brains and beauty would debase herself for the likes of Terry O'Connell - or any man, for that matter. But the obviously gravid belly left no doubts that someone was definitely using her. The fact that she'd already birthed five sets of identical twin daughters also tended to destroy any illusions about her independence. As Lou Ann began to speak, however, the first tentative cracks began to appear in Lawanda's Feminist Armor.

"Now that we're alone Miss Jackson, away from big ears, I'd like to be perfectly frank with you.", Lou Ann began, "When I said I'd heard your name a few times, it was not in a complimentary fashion. No, I'm afraid that you are well on your way to being fired, if you can't get your act together. You've tried... how many cases now?

"Twelve.", a suddenly frightened attorney replied, "I've taken twelve cases to court."

"And, how many have you won for the state?", Lou Ann prompted.

"None.", the abashed young woman replied, "I haven't won any."

"Would you like to know why you haven't won any cases so far?", the redhead asked.

"Yes, please.", Lawanda whispered.

"It's because the courtroom is not a platform for personal agendas.", Lou Ann calmly informed, "It is a place for the arbitration of guilt, or innocence, of human beings. Everyone I've heard mention your name, tells me that you attempt to waste the court's time with personal vendetta against men, and don't focus on the case at hand at all. The courtroom is NOT a forum for Lawanda Jackson's vitriolic tirades against the inequalities inherent in our society. Your next to last case actually ended in a mistrial, because you vented your spleen upon the accused, and his attorney. The defense, quite correctly, entered a motion, and the presiding judge had no choice, but to rule that a mistrial had occurred. While the new trial was being rescheduled, the state's star witness died of a massive coronary, and the D.A.'s office was forced to drop its charges, because the case was too weak otherwise."

"I know.", Lawanda shamefully admitted.

"That scumbag who was being tried, has already raped, and killed, two more young women, and is back in jail, awaiting trial for the new offenses.", Lou Ann grimly continued, "How does that make you feel, knowing that two women were raped and murdered, because you screwed up?"

"Terrible!", Lawanda cried, "I feel really rotten about the whole thing!"

"Your recent activities certainly don't indicate any feelings of remorse!", Lou Ann accused, "You turned right around and went after a man who's never committed an illegal violent act in his entire life! Instead of trying to come to terms with your own misanthropic obsessions, you wasted a great deal of the taxpayers' money - again - in persecuting one of this city's most respected citizens. Is it any wonder that your job is on the line? What do you think is going to happen, if you are fired. Between your shoddy reputation, and getting fired from the D.A.'s office, there's not a decent law firm in the state that would even consider hiring you. Are you really looking forward to chasing ambulances for the rest of your life?"

"NO!", Lawanda screamed, "Please, anything but that!"

Having wielded her stick, Lou Ann proceeded to hold out the carrot. Moving over to sit beside the distraught woman, she put her arm about her, and proposed;

"How about this then.", she soothed, "You take a three month leave of absence, promising to exert every effort in getting your head straightened out. You go to Terry and offer a sincere apology, but make sure that it is sincere, as he'll not believe you otherwise. Then, you ask him to teach you how it should be between a man and a woman. That will be the toughest hurdle for you, I know, but if you can do it, it might just mean your salvation."

Lay on Jackson, you puff; and damned be the one who first cries, "Hold - enough!"

"She'd eat her own grandfather - without salt!"

"Nah, she'd use salt." ; Paraphrased

- Heinlein, "Tunnel In The Sky"

"Good morning, everyone," Terry greeted, as he took his place at the head of the table.

"Morning Terry," came the chorus of feminine replies.

"How about you two lead off this morning, Red-Hots," he said to the twins.

Smiling at her mirror image, Maggie Kelly - as per usual - acted as spokesman for the pair. "Net profits are up 300% over last quarter, due in part to opening the two new locations, but mainly because we implemented your idea of using hot young coeds as living mannequins. Between that, and us two modeling the maternity look, Pandora's Closet has become THE place to buy spicy lingerie. We do wish you'd let us list you as owner, however. We're relatively unknown, compared to the reputation you enjoy. We think that using your name, as co-owner, would add at least ten points to our market share."

"Go ahead then," Terry agreed, "but I'd just as soon you two enjoyed the limelight on your own."

Turning to the elderly black man seated on his right, Terry fondly recalled the first time he'd laid eyes on "Uncle" Al Green;

Shortly after taking in the skinny little geek, he'd found shivering under the overhang of his loading dock, O'Malley had undertaken a campaign to put some meat on Terry's bones. After a couple of months of stuffing the fourteen year old with rich Mulligan Stew, eggs and bacon, and milk shakes - combined with the barmaids stuffing candy in his maw, every time he opened it - the boy had started filling out at a remarkable rate. His high-pitched, squeaky voice had toned down to a rich, mellow baritone. His thin fly-away hair had thickened to a sleek dark-auburn pelt, and constantly unloading cases of long-neck beer bottles - along with manhandling kegs - had toned his physique to one which would have been the envy of many marathon swimmers.

O'Malley had decided to introduce Terry to his old army buddy, Al Green, and had taken the boy to try the ribs at "Greasy Al's Pit Stop".

The big black man had immediately endeared himself to the boy, by offering to buy him from O'Malley, because he'd always wanted his own white boy to show off. He said it would greatly enhance his image to have a white boy for bussing tables and washing the dishes.

It wasn't long after their first meeting, that Al and O'Malley put their heads together, and decided to get Terry bred.

Al had a baby sister, Callie May, who'd disgraced the family by dropping out of school at thirteen, and selling her pussy to the students at UT. She had a houseful of bastard daughters, who'd grown up on welfare, and thought the government owed them a living. Al thought his three oldest nieces would be perfect to pop the boy's cherry. He knew that a threat, to cut off the little parasites' mooching from him, would be enough to secure their active participation. The fourteen, thirteen, and twelve year old little leeches were choice pieces of jail-bait, and would soon be giving it away, regardless.

"Besides," he told O'Malley, "once that boy gets a taste of dark meat, he'll never be satisfied with anemic blondes, who think their shit don't stink."

O'Malley just nodded his agreement, having no taste for the corn fed heifers himself. As a matter of fact, he'd been thinking about asking Callie May to move in with him. The last four rug-rats she'd dropped were obviously his, having the looks of the O'Malley women imprinted on their little faces. He knew Al would be glad to rid himself of her freeloading ways, and was pretty sure he was in love with her. She gave every indication of returning his love, and had restricted her sex life to him alone, several years ago.

What the two schemers had failed to take into consideration, however, was that Terry already had a couple of very crucial elements going for him.

Firstly, as he neared his fifteenth birthday, he was already well on his way toward being hung like a horse. Already sporting a 9" long, by 2-1/2" thick boner, the boy was masturbating 10 - 12 times every day. Secondly, and most importantly, he was determined to live up to O'Malley's and Uncle Al's expectations. The two men were the fathers he'd never really had, and he would've cut off his hand, before disappointing either of them.